The Halloween Whodunnit
by Darke Angelus
Summary: It's that dreaded time of the year- Vegeta escorts his daughter around on Halloween while Yamcha awaits the annual defacing of his house. Just who is the culprit? -One shot-


The Disclaimer: blah blah blah...DRAGONBALL Z...yadda yadda yadda...copyright of all characters...blah blah blah...the great, all-powerful Akira Toriyama...yadda yadda yadda...C'mon an get me ya lousy Feds!...HAH!  
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HALLOWEEN WITH BRA and DEAR OL' DAD!  
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Vegeta leaned over the balcony watching the sun go down with the look of a man who was counting down the minutes to his own fate. It was that time of the year again; dictated by the lengthening of the days and the coolness of the evenings. A time that heralded a change in the migratory paths of animals and a foolishness in the human breed that went far beyond the norm.  
  
Even the Capsule Corp. yard was not unaffected by the taint of madness. There were garish colored orbs, not unlike the Dragonballs, that had been carved up with butcher knives and the entrails scooped out to hold candles. Skeletons made of paper hung from the palm tree fronds and swung in the late afternoon breeze like twitching corpses. Tombstones made of Styrofoam were on either side of the path that led to the headquarters front door where a witch was impaled upon its surface like a bug on a windshield. Whenever someone came near that door, a huge spider dropped from the ceiling of the canopy and screeched like a girl, all eight limbs thrashing. That was the second spider Bulma had to buy. The first had been reduced to ashes three days ago when Trunks had rigged the damn thing to drop down on him when he entered his gravity simulator. The boy was almost eighteen now but every time the blasted holiday rolled around he acted like one of Kakarrot's brain-dead spawn.  
  
It was growing dark now and from his vantagepoint, the Saiyan prince could see the first of little costumed humans prowling the streets. They were allowed this night to roam in dangerous packs demanding sustenance from strangers who appeared cowed into submission by offering sacrifices in the way of candy to placate them. It was an unnerving thing to witness and the humans appeared to not only support it but encourage it. The event actually had a name.  
  
Halloween.  
  
"Vegeta, she's coming down! Ooooh! She's so cute!" came Bulma's voice from the living room.  
  
Hanging his head in defeat, Vegeta reluctantly left his refuge and went back inside. He cast his mate a veiled glance. She was clad in a one piece black dress and a wide-brimmed hat. It was a far cry from the custom-made leather Catwoman suit she had originally intended to wear. She had made the mistake of modeling it in front of him last night and...well, suffice to say there wasn't much left of it after he had ravished her. Just the thought of her in that skintight ensemble brought a flush to his naturally dark features and he could feel the stirrings of a completely useless erection-  
  
-Then Bulma turned to look at him and the sight of that puke-green make-up complete with warts and a long dangling nose brought him quickly back down to earth. He actually took a step backwards when she cackled at him in glee, baring black talons at the end of each finger. "Well, there you are my pretty!"  
  
"Woman, I believe you have scarred me for life," he responded, staring at her uneasily. She was wearing black lipstick and for no good reason he was thinking of her resemblance to Frieza. He wondered if he would be able to manage an erection ever again.  
  
"Mommy! Daddy! Here I come!" came a little girl's voice from upstairs and Bra burst from her bedroom and pranced down the stairs in her fairy costume. It was a bright pink disaster that she and her mother had made complete with crooked wings that actually fluttered (or tried to) and a glittery dress that dripped sequins all over the place. On her feet was a pair of sneakers that were painted gold.  
  
"What the hell are you supposed to be?" Vegeta asked her and Bulma elbowed him in the ribs. Hard.   
  
"I'm a fairy!" she announced and did a circle on her tiptoes waving a wand above her head.  
  
"Oh. You got the costume from Goten, did you?" Bulma elbowed him again but he couldn't help but release a bark of laughter at his own wit.  
  
Casting him a cold look, Bulma straightened the little girl's attennae on her head and handed her a flashlight and several bags. "I want you to be a good little angel tonight. Don't let your father get into any trouble-"  
  
"Hey!" He objected. "I'm not the one who got arrested last year!"  
  
Bulma's green face flushed to a shade of emerald at the reminder. She had taken Bra out trick-or-treating last year and had gotten into a screaming match with a Jehovah Witness who had called her an unfit mother for endorsing such a pagan holiday. The two had practically gone to blows over the issue and Vegeta had picked her and their bewildered daughter up from the Western Capital police precinct later that evening, smirking the entire time.  
  
"Just be good," she grumbled and gave her daughter a peck on the cheek and stood up. She poked Vegeta on the chest. "You, too."  
  
"Yes, mother," Vegeta and Bra echoed together and whatever irritation Bulma might have had evaporated at the sight of the two with identical mocking sneers on their faces. Oh yeah, Bra was his kid all right.  
  
There was the clumping of a multitude of miniature feet at the front door and the responsive screaming of the dummy spider before the chorus started; "Trick-or-treat! Smell our feet! Give us something-"  
  
"Oh! I'm not ready!" Bulma spouted and rushed downstairs. Vegeta could hear the front door open and the sound of his mate giving her harried praise, "Oh my, what have we here? What a handsome pirate you are! And you must be a scary ghost! Brr-r-r-r! And you-"  
  
Rolling his eyes, he looked down at his six-year-old daughter. "Ready to go?" he asked in a sigh.  
  
Her bottom lip went out in a pout. "Daddy, you're not wearing a costume!"  
  
"Sure I am," he said as he pulled on his leather coat in preparation to leave. "I'm masquerading as a human. It's the most terrifying thing I could come up with."  
  
She crossed her small arms and scowled at him. Vegeta lasted maybe one minute under that glare and retrieved a baseball cap from Trunks' room that had a pair of devil horns on it. Getting his alien mane crammed into it took some effort but he managed. "Satisfied?"   
  
"...It'll do," she relented. Oh yeah, she was Bulma's kid all right.  
  
"Where do you want to start?"  
  
"Where ever the most candy is!" came the expected reply.  
  
Vegeta picked her up and placed her on his shoulders and launched himself off of the balcony while she howled in excitement like a witch on a broom. They decided to go to the outer edge of the Capital and work themselves in with Bra calling the shots like a girl who had her dad completely wrapped around her little pinky. Vegeta relented only because he wanted the night to be over as quickly and with as little fuss as possible. He remained standing on the curb in a modest sized subdivision watching her protectively as she scampered up to each house.  
  
Adults with children of their own passed him identical looks of torture and grief reserved only for their age group. It wasn't uncommon for a small gathering of parents to linger on the sidewalk while they waited for their own brood to finish up with the begging at the various homes. Vegeta found himself included among several family units as they moved from house to house. Bra got along with the other children quite well as long as they let her get to the door first.   
  
"I think it's wonderful what you're doing," a young mother said to Vegeta who was standing as far away from the other adults as possible, the hat pulled down over his eyes.  
  
His hands in the pockets of his coat, he simply shrugged at the praise.  
  
"I know what you mean," piped up a single dad. "There's not many kids who would take their little sister around trick-or-treating."  
  
Vegeta fixed him with a chilling glare. "I'm fifty-two years old, you moron."  
  
As the stunned group absorbed the news, Vegeta caught up to his daughter and took her across the street to start a new block over her objections. That became the pattern for the rest of the night whenever he found himself caught up with a group of human adults.Bra really didn't object too long. Running solo meant she had more time to turn up the charm and possibly get some more goodies out of a home owner. Being half-Saiyan, she had her priorities right where food was concerned.   
  
Bra skipped along in her gaudy sneakers as they moved onto the next house. The girl was clutching the bag she carried in a deathgrip so that he couldn't sneak a candy bar out of her stash and he was getting frustrated as she continued to thwart him. "Just one, that's all I'm asking."  
  
"No."  
  
"One little bar-"  
  
"NO!"  
  
"How about some candy corn then? You hate that crap anyway," Vegeta was almost whining. Bulma had hid the candy from him and Trunks waiting until they had left the building. The sweets were the only part of the annoying holiday that he liked.  
  
Bra seriously thought it over. "'kay, but just one," she said, rummaging in her modestly filled bag and handing him a tiny package of candy. He was just about to tear into the prize when she added, "Y'know, daddy, you could trick-or-treat too with the right costume. You're not much taller than some of the fifth-graders in my school."  
  
Vegeta suddenly lost his appetite. He glared at his daughter as she ran up to the porch of another house and then stared down at his feet, muttering curses to himself.  
  
They left one neighborhood and proceeded onto the next. One that was immediately recognizable. "Oh! That's uncle Yamcha's house!" Bra announced, leaving his side at a sprint and charging up the walkway. The Z Fighter owned a modest little bungalow on the Capital's East Side, which he shared with his Bimbo-Of-The-Month. Miss October answered the door clad in a replica of Princess Leia's slave costume and Vegeta found himself leaving his usual place at the end of the driveway to get a closer look.  
  
Yamcha appeared in a Han Solo outfit that didn't quite fit. "Hello Bra! You look some cute in that angel costume-"  
  
"I'M A FAIRY!" Bra wailed.  
  
"So you are," he quickly corrected himself. He heard a low chuckle and saw Vegeta standing a few feet away, watching them in amusement. His smile flagged, he had hoped that Bulma would be out tonight. "Hey Vegeta. Do those horns come with the hat or are you revealing your true form tonight?"  
  
"Har de har har," the Saiyan snorted.  
  
"Speaking of hell-raisers, where's Trunks?"  
  
"He's at a dance at the school."   
  
Yamcha dropped a handful of bars and suckers into the bag that Bra held out. "I hope that someone is keeping an eye on him tonight. I don't want a repeat of what happened to my house the last time."  
  
Vegeta folded his arms. "The boy was not responsible for the damage. He was grounded that night."  
  
Last Halloween had been pure torture for Yamcha. Not only had his house, trees and hedge been swathed in toilet paper but also rotten eggs had been pelted at all sides of his house and garage, along with the windows being soaped.  
  
"I figure it was more likely some woman you spurned," Vegeta added slyly. "I hear there's a club forming."  
  
"What's he mean by that?" Princess Leia asked in a sharp tone.  
  
"Hehhehheh nothing, my love," Yamcha said with a dopey grin. He flashed the Saiyan a dirty look. "I'll be keeping my eyes open tonight," he promised and closed the door. From behind it, both Bra and her father could hear the start of an argument and they decided to leave.  
  
"What a dork," Bra muttered when they reached the sidewalk.  
  
"You said it, kid," Vegeta agreed.  
  
A couple of hours later they were only a few blocks from Capsule Corp. Bra was showing absolutely no signs of slowing down as she periodically resorted to her treats for a pick-me-up and was currently cruising along on a sugar high. She was carrying her third bag of goodies, having encapsulated the other two and refused to even trust her father to carry the capsules. Vegeta was getting pissed. He was hungry, thirsty and just wanted this evening to come to an end. The bigger kids were starting to come out and roam the streets in dangerous packs and police cruisers were starting to increase in number. When the eggs started flying he wanted to be back home.  
  
There was a sudden sharp wail and Bra came running back from the house she had been at, crying her eyes out. "Daddy!"  
  
He stared at her in alarm. It was rare when she pulled the waterworks over something he HADN'T done. "What's wrong?"  
  
She pointed at the front door. "Th-that man had no c-candy. He told me to buh-bug off!"  
  
Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "Oh, he did, did he?"  
  
The homeowner had run out of suckers an hour before but didn't bother turning off his porch light just so he could vent his frustrations at the little begging brats as they continued to knock on his door. He was just getting settled into his chair after telling that stupid little fairy to get lost when the front door burst open and somebody wearing a devil hat came inside.  
  
"You the prick who made my kid cry?" Vegeta snarled at him as he walked into the living room.  
  
"Ho...ho...holy shit..." the guy wheezed.  
  
"I don't like this damn holiday either but now I've got to put up with her bawling thanks to you!" The Saiyan stood menacingly over the cringing man until he noticed the four remaining beers of a six pack on the end table. "I'll take this for myself," he said and went into the kitchen. Too shocked to even get up out of his chair, the man sat immobile when, a few minutes later, Vegeta came out of the room carrying an armload of cookies, chips and a frozen turkey. "These are for my kid. Smarten up next time, asshole!" he said and walked out of the house.  
  
The home owner sat there for the longest time in open-mouthed shock before he got to his feet and slammed the door shut (as best he could on its bent hinges) and turned off the porch light. He sagged to the floor and clutched his chest where his heart was racing. "I hate Halloween," he croaked.  
  
When Vegeta returned home he was carrying an exhausted Bra in his arms and Bulma greeted him on the balcony. She was still wearing her witch dress but, mercifully, had washed that green crap off her face.  
  
"How'd it go?" she whispered, taking their daughter into her arms. Bra muttered something and fell back asleep, there was a smear of chocolate on one cheek and she was still gripping one bag of treats in her tiny fist.  
  
"No problem," Vegeta said with an easy smile. He had downed the four beers in rapid succession and had a nice mellow buzz going. Gently disengaging their daughter's fingers from the bag Bulma was astonished to see what he removed from it. "Who the hell gave you a turkey as a Halloween treat?"  
  
"Just some guy who ran out of treats."  
  
She giggled at the obvious lie but didn't bother pushing her luck. He appeared to actually be in a good mood and she wanted to take advantage of the moment. "Put it in the sink to defrost, I'll cook it tomorrow."  
  
"Bonus."  
  
"Then come upstairs. I've got something to show you."  
  
That leering grin of his was back. "Even better," he said in a husky growl and quickly left the room to rid himself of the thawing bird.   
  
  
At half past one in the morning, Yamcha was still playing sentinel in his living room peering out into the front yard waiting, just waiting for the first sign of trouble. He had faced Saibamen, Saiyans and Cell and this was the most maddening of them all because the attack always came without warning and always left him the fool of the neighborhood.  
  
"Hon? C'mon to bed," Princess Leia pleaded from the hallway. "It's late. No one's going to show up."  
  
"I tell myself that every year," Yamcha muttered. "But the next day there I am, cleaning up my yard. I know damn well Trunks is behind this and Vegeta wouldn't stop him either-"  
  
"Vegeta? Was that the guy whose little girl was dressed in the fairy outfit? He was kind of cute-"  
  
"Oh, no you don't!" Yamcha snapped, pulling himself away from the front window and walking over to her. "I don't want to even hear you bring that guy up ever again. Let's go to bed."  
  
"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" she said in exasperation. She followed him down the hallway and just had to add, "He WAS cute, y'know-"  
  
"!!DAMMIT!!" Yamcha bellowed from the bathroom.  
  
The next morning he opened one eye and looked around the room, seeing only blackness. The sun hadn't even risen yet. He snuggled up closer to his current girlfriend and glanced at the clock radio beside the bed before burrowing his head into the pillow. Snapping his head back up he stared at the clock again. The read-out said that it was nine in the morning but the room was as black as midnight.  
  
"Oh no. Nononononono," he chanted as he got out of bed and jogged over to the window. He threw open the curtains and stared at what he saw in complete disbelief.  
  
The window had been painted black.  
  
"!!DAMMIT!!" he screamed leaving the room. The woman, no longer bearing even a remote resemblance to Princess Leia in her disheveled hair and smeared make-up looked around dazedly. "Yamcha? Come back to bed, it's still dark out," she murmured and fell back asleep.  
  
Running outside wearing only his boxers, Yamcha discovered that every single window of his house was painted pitch black. The house and trees were heavily swathed in toilet paper and it was starting to rain, transforming the cotton streamers into a soggy mess. He wandered out onto his lawn like a man still in the grips of his greatest nightmare. On their way to school several kids had stopped on the sidewalk to watch him with open-mouthed amazement.  
  
"Wow, mister. Someone really has it in for you," one eight-year-old boy piped up.  
  
"Oh, shut up!" Yamcha yelled at him before storming back inside of the unnaturally dark house.  
  
  
The ringing of the telephone beside the bed woke Bulma up out of a sound sleep and she glared at it resentfully, pulling herself up into a sitting position. She'd only gotten into bed at around four in the morning and had been looking forward to sleeping in. Glancing to her right she saw that Vegeta's side of the bed was empty. There had been an all-night marathon of spooky movies on the television and the Saiyan thrived on the sickening gore. He was probably asleep on the couch.  
  
Stifling a yawn she picked up the phone. "Hello?"  
  
"Bulma!"  
  
"Oh, hi Yamcha. Listen isn't this a little early-"  
  
"Where the hell was that son of yours last night!?" came the enraged voice on the other end.  
  
"Trunks?" Bulma was blinking the sleep out of her eyes. "He came home just after midnight. He watched a movie with Vegeta and then went to bed. Why?"  
  
"Why do you think? My house was vandalized! Again! Some little bastard painted my windows black!" There was a long, considering pause on the other end. "Could Trunks have slipped out?"  
  
"Naw. He used to pull that when he was younger so now we have a motion detector set up outside of his window. He was home all night."  
  
Yamcha went silent again. Bulma could practically hear the fighters' thoughts grinding together. As well as his teeth. "What about Vegeta-"  
  
"Uh-uh," she interrupted, knowing where that question was going. "He came home in a really good mood and we ended up going upstairs to-"  
  
-click-  
  
Bulma stared at the receiver with one arched eyebrow of amusement and hung up. She grabbed her robe and left the bedroom to go down-stairs, grateful that Trunks had seen to it that he and his little sister had got up to go to school without disturbing her. Vegeta was on the couch as she predicted but he wasn't asleep. He had finally found where Bra had hidden her capsules of her full bags of goodies and had opened one right after she had left for school. There was an enormous litter of chocolate bar wrappers and empty chip bags on the coffee table.  
  
"Bra will never talk to you again if she discovers you eating her stash," she said, sitting beside him.  
  
"Ah, dare to dream for some quiet in this house..." he said with a slanted smile. He unwrapped a sucker and popped it into his mouth. "No worries, I'll just plant the bag in Trunks' room before she comes back."  
  
Bulma burst out laughing. "Poor Trunks! If you're not trying to get him in trouble then Yamcha is!"  
  
"Yamcha?" The mere mention of her ex-lover was always something of a sore spot for the Saiyan. "What's he bitching about now?"  
  
"The usual," she said, snuggling close beside him.  
  
He put an arm around her shoulders. "You don't sound very sympathetic."  
  
"Why should I? I never forgot the fact that he cheated on me." She went silent for a time and then confided, "He's my friend but sometimes he needs to be reminded of that." With that off her chest she pulled a bag of chips out of Bra's trick-or-treat bag and proceeded to help herself. Beside her, Vegeta scanned through the channels on the TV and stopped at a local station. A news cruiser had been driving around the Capital reporting on the acts of vandalism that had occurred the night before and it wasn't long before they pulled up to a familiar house.  
  
"OhmiGOD!" Bulma almost choked on a mouthful of chips and a flurry of crumbs flew out of her mouth as she started laughing.  
  
"Local celebrity Yamcha," the reporter was saying into the mike, "Of the Earth's Special Forces and retired baseball star has had his own home vandalized every single Halloween for the last ten years." The camera panned to Yamcha standing out on his yard still in his boxers as he was arguing with his girlfriend on the porch. He caught sight of the cruiser and began yelling muffled threats. Ignoring him, the reporter droned on, "Authorities have absolutely no leads and the Fighter himself appears unable to catch the guilty parties in the act despite his best efforts to-"  
  
Yamcha's face was suddenly in the camera. "Trunks! I know it's you! You and Goten! I swear to God I'm gonna-"  
  
"Sir, you're going to have to step back," the reporter told him.  
  
Yamcha pushed him backward and put his hand over the lens, bellowing; "-bleep- you! Get the -bleep- off of my -bleep-ing yard before I -bleep-ing throw you off! You heard me, you -bleepedybleepbleep bleep-ers!"  
  
From their comfy position on the couch, Vegeta and Bulma watched the frenzied tousle in complete amazement. They observed Yamcha as he apparently gave up on the news team and stormed back inside of his defaced house, dragging his reluctant girlfriend with him and slamming the door so hard that the glass broke.  
  
"!!DAMMIT!!" came the enraged roar from inside.  
  
"There you have it, ladies and gentleman," the reporter was saying when the excitement died down, "Not even our local heroes are capable of keeping vigil at all hours of the night-"  
  
Vegeta reclaimed the remote and resumed his aimless channel surfing. After several minutes of relaxed quiet he said in a smug voice, "So...what should we do to him next year?"  
  
"I'm envisioning lots of silly-string and dogshit in a paper baggie. What do you think?" Bulma shot back.  
  
"I think that I never want to have you as an enemy," he responded sincerely.  
  
Bulma pulled the sucker out of his mouth and put it into her own adding a slow, conspiring wink. "Bet on it."  
  
There was a moment of silence as the pair glanced at one another and then burst out laughing over the fact that they had gotten away with yet another year of making Yamcha's Halloween one to remember. Before they dozed off together on the sofa Vegeta confessed to her in a contented voice;  
  
"I think Halloween is fast becoming my favorite holiday."  
  
  
The End.  
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